Reminds Me of Home
by Hikaru Morinaga
Summary: Written for Dorkness Rising. Whenever Duo has to work late, Heero often finds comfort in something completely mundane... 1x2. One shot.


**Reminds Me of Home**

Whenever Duo was forced to work late, or was running late due to being stuck in traffic or having to deal with pains in the asses for employees, Heero would lounge around in shorts and Duo's old Sox hoodie, the one you couldn't really tell was a Sox hoodie because the Red Sox logo was ridiculously faded from being worn constantly for so many years. Heero didn't care much about the Red Sox, or baseball in general, but he wasn't particularly choosy with hoodies either, and he'd started wearing it one night only because he was really cold and there was nothing else around.

Tonight was one of those 'Duo was forced to work late' nights. It wasn't particularly cold in the apartment they shared, despite it being cold enough to snow (and it had, earlier in the day, done so), thanks to having the heat up, but in a fit of what Heero assumed was brought on by him missing Duo, he once again pulled the old Sox hoodie over his head and adjusted it. It was too big on him, the sleeves stopping past his fingertips, the hem nearly covering his shorts entirely, but he didn't care. He didn't care because it was warm and comfortable, unlike the other hoodies they had lying around the place. He curled up on the oversized recliner in the living room and watched the news, specifically, the weather forecast. His eyes went to the window by the chair. It was snowing again.

"People traveling home on their evening commute should be careful of roadways covered in black ice and snow," the meteorologist warned. Heero sunk into the hoodie more. Though he wouldn't admit it, he was a little worried, all sorts of what-ifs going through his mind. What if Duo crashed into a snow filled ditch on the way home? What if he struck black ice and skidded off the road and into a tree? What if, what if, what if? He fiddled with one of the sleeves. He shrunk inside the hoodie and took in how it smelled.

Though Heero wore the hoodie a lot, it still smelled like Duo (who didn't wear it every day, or often at all), smelled like cigarette smoke and pomegranates and leather, like aftershave and some sort of musky scent that was unique to Duo, that he tasted every time they kissed. He shivered, but not front the cold. The smell was so strong that Heero could picture Duo with his arms around him, _feel_ those arms around him, feel his cheek against his as they did what they always did every night: watch TV while sitting on the chair or the couch (wherever Duo planted himself first). He relaxed, sinking further into the chair.

Usually Heero would fall asleep in Duo's embrace and end up getting carried off to their bedroom. Tonight, Heero fell asleep in Duo's hoodie, which he thought was a suitable enough substitute for Duo.

"Fuckin' snow plow," Duo said, as he blew in through the front door. A shower of snow came in behind him, scattering across the floor like sand taken to shore. He closed the door, undid his scarf and gloves, cheeks a rosy pink from the wind. "Had to get stuck right behind it. No one's in a hurry or nothin'." He looked at the chair and saw Heero curled up against the one arm; his arms had disappeared into the sleeves, his head barely on the back of the chair anymore, more on the arm of it instead. His bare feet dangled over the seat edge. His deep, even breathing told Duo he was fast asleep. His face softened as he looked at him, slowly unzipping his coat before taking it to the kitchen to dry. The kitchen, for some reason, was the warmest place in the whole apartment, so it would be dry in no time in there. His gloves and scarf joined it.

Duo left the living room after he toed off his boots to change into something warm, comfortable, and not covered in grease or snow or dirt from slipping on black ice and sliding down the hill to his parked car instead. He threw the dirtied clothes into the laundry hamper and padded down the hall to the living room again in just a pair of loose fitting sweats and an oversized shirt advertising Guinness on the front of it. He sat down next to Heero, squeezing into the space between the armrest and Heero's backside before wrapping his arms around Heero's waist, cheek against the top of his head. And to make things easier, he reclined the chair so their legs weren't just dangling. Heero shifted a little.

"Hey," Duo murmured. "Miss me?" He pulled at one of the sleeves. "Been wearin' this a lot lately."

"If you want, I can take it off or stop wearing it…" Heero's voice was dripping with sleepiness.

Duo shook his head, gave him a light squeeze. "Nah. You look good in it, better than I do. Just curious, is all."

"…reminds me of you," Heero muttered. "Makes me feel safe…"

Duo smiled against Heero's hair before kissing his head. He turned down the volume on the TV and shut out the light on the end table next to them.

"Keep it," Duo said. "So you'll have me wherever you go and I'm not there."

"If it's mine then you won't be coming back for it if you decide to leave. If it's yours…I'll see you again."

Duo's head perked up. "Who said I was leavin' you? I ain't leavin'. You'll have to lock me out, and move with no forwarding address, and even then…" Duo's Boston accent was really coming out in full force now. "Even then, I'll still find you. I'll always come home. Home is where the heart is, right?" Duo patted Heero's chest, right above his heart. "That's right here, baby." He buried his face in Heero's shoulder. "With you."

Heero placed his hand on top of Duo's and squeezed it before whispering, "Good night."

Duo kissed Heero's temple. "Night, baby. Love ya."

"…I know."


End file.
